Friday, February 10, 2006

Someone is going to have to wheel my old, decrepit, sore ass home to Fla. on Monday. I know it's been a while since writing, for myriad reasons: A.) I am in severe pain, due to what my ghetto Park Ave. GP calls "soft-tissue" muscle damage that stemmed from, surprise fucking surprise, the wrong running shoes. Don't get me started on the $100 running shoes versus the $20 ones, the former of which caused my entire left side to pulsate with pain, and the latter of which never gave me ONE problem, ever. His prescription? Anti-inflammatories (BFD), physical therapy, massage, yoga, rest, stretching. Oh, yeah. Let the fun begin. B.) I am busy trying to get my shit together for Florida. C.) I had the Japanese straightening on Tuesday, which required me not to put my hair up, behind my ears or get it wet. It's quite difficult to type/read/sit at the computer with your hair in your face. And, D.) I really don't see the point of writing this anymore, because, while I am happy to entertain my loyal readers/e-stalkers/friends/random passersby, this is just an exercise in futility and it actually hurts to type right now.

Until my "soft-tissue" damage heels, I must refrain from: exercising aerobically, wearing high heels, staying on my feet for long periods of time; e.g. living, going out, dressing up, having fun. Fucking kill me now. Not to mention the fact that I am set to leave for Florida on Monday, and next week have a whirlwind of activities scheduled, from flying into Jax., driving down to Miami, visiting the family business, finding an apartment with the assitance of local realtors and seeing friends and family. Not to mention the blind dates, which, if my health is any indication, I will have to cancel. What, I'm going to show up in sneakers or orthodics, all hunched over and shit???????? Very appealing, I am sure. I suppose I will now fit right in in South Florida with all the old, complaining yentas. Maybe I will start a canasta league. I must spend this weekend icing and heating the leg, packing, cleaning, etc. in preparation for being gone for a week and a half.

The one upside of all this: I have a legitimate, medical excuse to get massages. That is the only possible silver lining I can identify, because, doctor didn't even prescribe good drugs. The inside of my apartment now resembles a Duane Reade pharmacy or orthopedic care center. It's not a pretty picture and neither am I. The big event tonight will be doing a yoga DVD. Life is grand.

Oh, and the doctor, when he suggested massage, actually said something along the lines of, "I don't know if you have a husband or significant other, but now would be a good time to put him to use massaging your buttocks. Hardy, har, har."

Um, yeah. I think I actually laughed at him, but sadly, this is the first time in ages I wish I did have a boyfriend, if only so I could put him "to use." Better yet, I have a professional masseur booked for Valentine's Day, no strings attached.